The West Chester U. Follies

(What will we do now, Quincy, Sam & Crew?)

The thief sneaks out at night and leaves the girl
to fix the gol-darn mess. She makes the best
of it and saves the day until the swirl
of sharks, those dead-eyed dicks, blame her; the rest
is his-tor-ee. They covered up his deeds,
his alcoholic sprees, the loss of coins,
then fired her without reason, planted seeds
for further lies and hired a dude, purloins
the purse at their behest, and spreads it thick
while elegantly she moves on and starts
her own, a conference worth its salt, a kick
out by the sea. The poser crapped his farts.
When he resigned, they found another beau
who loves “free verse”; please say it isn’t so.

Charles (Charlie) Southerland lives on his farm in North-Central Arkansas where he bales hay, mills lumber, hunts and fishes. When he has time, he writes poetry on just about every subject. He is published in Trinacria, The Rotary Dial, First Things, The Road Not Taken and other journals. He has been nominated for a 2016 Pushcart Prize and is a finalist in the 2015 Howard Nemerov Sonnet Contest. He likes to write sonnets, villanelles and sapphics.